


Bridges

by kronette



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place near the end of DS9's third season and pre-Voyager. I wrote it after seeing a few episodes of Voyager. A distress call from the DMZ sends Bashir on a mission of mercy. Little does he know it's the Maquis who require his assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 1995 under my other pseud, Shelley Wright.

Another uneventful day. Doctor Julian Bashir was actually looking forward to these kinds of days, with all the traffic that had been flowing through Bajoran space the last few months. He had barely had time to sleep, let alone catch up on reading, or any sort of hobby. He started to make a mental list of things he could do on his time off when the call came in.

"Doctor Bashir, report to OPS immediately."

With a resigned sigh, he tapped his commbadge. "Bashir here. On my way." He rose reluctantly from his chair and left the Infirmary for the nearest turbolift. It deposited him at a very somber OPS.

"Doctor, we've just had a distress call from Nihada III in the Demilitarized Zone. It seems a Federation colony is requesting medical assistance," Commander Benjamin Sisko briefed him as he slid into a chair around the central island computer.

"Long range sensors show no sign of any Cardassian ships in the area, but they might be hiding," Lieutenant Jadzia Dax interjected. "The signal originated from inside the DMZ, but that's about all I can confirm."

Sisko nodded at her. "That will have to do. Doctor Bashir, I want to know if you'd be willing to go into the Demilitarized Zone to offer aid to those people." Sisko started hard at the young man. "I want this to be understood: this a volunteer mission, doctor."

Julian thought about saying no, but something inside him wouldn't let him turn his back on those in need. "I'll go Commander. But I'll need supplies and a way there. Do we know of any other ship offering assistance?" he inquired, glancing from the Chief Science Officer to his Commanding Officer. The two exchanged a look.

"I'm afraid there are no ships willing to enter the DMZ. Too many problems, including rendering their weapons useless. No ship is willing to do that. But we can strip a runabout in a few hours. It looks like you're their only hope, Julian," Sisko said, and Julian noted that he had used his first name. It obviously meant a great deal to him that he go. Bashir stood. "Sir, I'll organize the medical supplies immediately. Will I be going alone?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"I hate to do it, but yes, you are on your own. The less people we send, the less threat they have over us. Do you understand, Doctor?" Sisko's voice held a strange note to it, which Julian interpreted as pity. He was going alone, and they didn't expect him to return.

"Aye, sir," he replied quietly, his dark eyes reflecting his determination, hiding his sudden fear.

***

Julian Bashir tapped his fingers nervously against the panel in front of him. He had asked the computer for music, but that hadn't settled his nerves. He faced facts; he was  _not_ looking forward to entering the Demilitarized Zone. He didn't want to run into any Maquis. He had had quite enough of them, thank you. The sensors beeped at him, alerting him that he was approaching the planet. He opened a channel.

"This is Doctor Julian Bashir, Chief Medical Officer of Deep Space Nine, here to offer medical assistance." He held his breath, not sure who would answer his hail. To his surprise, a Vulcan woman appeared on screen.

"Doctor Bashir. We appreciate your assistance. If you would beam down to these coordinates," she said in a crisp tone, "Your services are desperately needed."

"I will, as soon as I beam down some medical supplies first. Would that be acceptable?" he asked.

She nodded curtly. "As soon as you are ready. Out."

The screen blanked, and Bashir checked the coordinates she had given him. Sensors showed nothing of consequence, so he beamed down his supplies and stepped onto the transporter. He dematerialized next to his supplies, surrounded by four people, all training their weapons on him. The Vulcan woman stepped forward.

"Welcome to Nihada III. Please come with us," she said calmly as she waved her weapon to her right. Bashir had no choice but to follow, or rather, lead the way. His steps carried him to a dilapidated building.

"Inside," one of the men said gruffly, shoving the point of his weapon into Julian's shoulder.

Julian stumbled, turning slightly to glare at the man. " _Don't_ touch me," he said defiantly, while stepping through the sagging doorway. The musty air tickled his nose; the dim light making it hard to see through the haze. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed the smashed table, broken chairs and scattered knickknacks, but the coughing caught and held his attention. He picked his way over the debris to another doorway and peered inside. His glance fell first to the bed, where a woman lay. Around the bed lay more people, all with varying degrees of injuries. Julian immediately stepped through the doorway and bent to the nearest casualty.

"I need my supplies," he called over his shoulder as he took the boy's pulse. The man with the weapon leaned against the doorjamb, impassively watching the doctor work. When the supplies did not present themselves, Julian called again, "I need my medical supplies." The man snorted a laugh, and Julian spun around to see him sneering at him. Fortunately for both of them, the man backed away when two men brought one of the cases Julian had beamed down. Julian yanked it towards him with a glare at the other man and rifled through it until he found his instruments and began to work.

What seemed like days later, but was actually only a few hours, Julian was pleased. He had treated more people in those few short hours than he did since his posting to DS Nine, and it looked like most would make a full recovery. Then his gaze fell to the woman lying on the bed. She had barely moved, even before he had placed the delta wave inducer on her. He sighed deeply and ran the tricorder over her again, hoping the readings had changed. They hadn't. Not only was she seriously injured - the Vulcan had said she was found under a pile of rubble - but she was also four months pregnant. One punctured lung, the other on the verge of collapse, ruptured spleen...most of her internal organs would have to be replaced. But the baby had almost been crushed, and was in danger of becoming asphyxiated. "I can't treat her anymore here," Julian muttered to himself as he catalogued the replacement organs needed. His mind made up, Julian walked to the corner of the room, where the same man that had escorted him there had been sitting since his arrival.

"I need to bring her to DS Nine. With the facilities there I can help her," Julian explained to the man who had been his shadow for his entire stay. When his 'shadow' said nothing, he sighed exasperatedly. "I can't do anything else for her here. The baby won't make it unless I can get her to DS Nine," he pleaded, hoping the man had a soft spot for kids. When that elicited no response, Julian began to wonder if there was  _any_ humanity left in him. Teeth clenched, he stated, "They will both die without proper care. You see the condition the woman's in; I can't treat everything here. Let me take her back to the station, and I'll return her, good as new," trying to maintain his politeness, even though he wanted to punch this man out. The man continued to stare at him indifferently, not saying a word, then his focus shifted behind Julian.

"You have to help her," a softly accented voice said from the doorway. Julian spun around, studying the new arrival. Standing slightly taller than he, the man was shadowed in the doorway, brawny arms crossed over his broad chest. He stepped into the light, his long-sleeved ivory shirt stained with blood and dirt, his jeans ripped, dusty boots clicking on the tiled floor. "You have to help her," he repeated, desperation keeping his voice low.

Julian shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid I can't help her here. As I've been trying to tell him," he nodded to the man in the corner, "I need to get her to Deep Space Nine. The facilities are better there; I may be able to save the baby." The man's arms dropped to his sides, and Julian was afraid he would pass out.

"She's...she's pregnant?" he whispered, fixing incredulous eyes on her.

Julian nodded. "Four months. I might be able to save the woman here, but in order to save the baby, I need to take them to DS Nine," he stated again.

The man startled Julian with how fast he moved. He dropped to his knees by the bed, grasping the woman's hand lightly. "Firesong, why didn't you tell me?" he whispered hoarsely, gripping her hand in both of his, resting his forehead against their intertwined fingers.

"I don't know if she can hear you. I have her in deep sleep; the less she moves, the better off the baby is," Julian told the man quietly.

The man looked up then, and Julian felt his heart tug at the anguish showing on the man's face. "I'm sorry, but it's the best I can do for her. For both of them. Let me take them back to DS Nine and they'll be back to you in no time," Julian coaxed, hating to use this man's emotional state, but knowing the woman had precious little time left.

"She can't leave me," the man said, so softly Julian had to move closer to hear him. "She can't leave," he repeated, more firmly as he straightened his back.

"I understand," Julian said patiently. "But that doesn't change the fact that I can't save the baby. It's oxygen supply is severely limited; the woman -"

"Firesong," the man interrupted him.

"Firesong," Julian repeated with a slight smile, which instantly faded. "It looks like an entire building fell on her; her uterus was severely bruised; it's lucky the baby survived this long. But it won't, unless I take them to the station," he said quietly, pleading with his eyes.

The man seemed to be thinking it over, then he shook his head. "She can't go. She's Maquis. They'll throw her in the brig, put her on trial. And she isn't strong enough to sustain a trial. Is she?" the man asked Bashir, challenged him.

Bashir straightened unconsciously, meeting him glare for glare. "No, she's not strong enough right now. But I won't let them take her anywhere but the Infirmary. After she's treated, then we'll see what happens. But first, she must be treated," Julian insisted again.

"You are a true Healer, then?"

The question startled Julian. He blinked a few times before answering, "I...I'm a doctor, trained at Starfleet..."

The man cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. "Are you a  _healer_ , a Spiritual Man?" he asked, looking him over, sizing him up to see if he could  _see_ if he was. Julian felt conspicuous. "I am a healer, yes," he answered confidently.

"Then I will allow you to take her to DS Nine. With me," he added.

Julian shook his head. "I can protect her from the authorities in the Infirmary, but I can't protect you. If you are Maquis, Odo'll have you in the brig before your foot hits the deckplate. I can only be responsible for her."

The man advanced a menacing step, causing Julian to back up two. "I am responsible for her. I am her Kuvasz; she is mine to protect. I will go." He stood proudly, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the younger man, and Julian had a fleeting glimpse of the fire of the Maquis; why they defended their homeland. And for an instant, he felt a spark of envy. Then it was gone.

"Very well. If you'll arrange to have her carried to the runabout, we'll be..." Julian's words were drown out by the distinct sound of phaser fire and screams. Both men turned instinctively to the shouting, but only one raced out into the street to tackle a Cardassian in disguise. Julian watched in fascination as the man and Cardassian rolled around on the ground, scuffling. So intent was he on the struggle outside that he just barely heard the footstep behind him.

"Don't turn around," the voice ordered. Julian froze.

"I'm not moving," Julian replied, remaining standing. "I'm a doctor, I'm just treating these people."

The man walked around Julian, coming into view. It was a Cardassian, training his disruptor at Julian's chest. "What is Starfleet doing here?" he demanded, a menacing scowl appearing.

Julian took a quick breath. "A general distress call came from this planet. I was sent as the nearest doctor. I'm from Deep Space Nine."

The Cardassian eyed him warily. "I have been to the station, and I don't remember seeing you there. I think you are lying," he sneered, stepping closer with a dangerous gleam in his eye. Julian saw his chance. He glanced to the doorway, allowing his expression to show surprise.

"Well, it's about time," he said, watching the Cardassian out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to look at the doorway, Julian knocked the disruptor out of his hands and tried to shove the Cardassian back. The thought flashed through his mind, 'bad move Julian' as the Cardassian's fist connected with his jaw, sending him crashing into the doorjamb. Julian shook the stars from his vision and body-rammed him. Both went down in a tangle of limbs, Julian managing to knock the breath out of the much-larger Cardassian. He glanced around quickly, desperately, looking for the disruptor. He spotted it and lunged, just as the Cardassian's foot lanced out and caught his leg. Julian went sprawling, his face just inches away from the disruptor. He reached for it...out of the corner of his eye, saw movement. He rolled and missed the chair being smashed on his skull by centimeters. His eyes widened at the hatred reflected in the Cardassian's eyes, and his hand instinctively searched for the disruptor. His fingers closed around the barrel, and the next thing he knew, the burly Cardassian was falling toward him, a two inch hole where he knew the Cardassian's heart should have been. He tried to roll away, but the Cardassian fell on his leg, effectively pinning him down. As he struggled with him, the man came in from outside and helped him up. He then flung the dead Cardassian outside, to join his friend.

"This is what we put up with daily," the man gasped, wiping at the blood trickling out of his mouth. Julian merely nodded, trying to catch his breath and get over the shock of what just happened. The attack had lasted less than ten minutes, but already people were carrying casualties in to him. With a snap of his head, Julian focused on the wounded and blocked everything else out.

***

Four hours later, Julian nearly collapsed. He had been working on one woman, a little older than himself he guessed, for over an hour. Her species had a tricky respiratory system, and he was having a tough time getting it stabilized. Working frantically, he didn't notice the slight shaking of his hands, or the blurring of his eyes, until the diagnostics swam in front of him and he couldn't see anymore. He leaned back against the bed where he fought exhaustion. Sleep would get him nowhere now; patients needed him. That thought bought him five more minutes, then he was again leaning against the bed, this time asleep.

"Healer!"

Julian awoke abruptly, startled. "What?" he demanded, forcing himself awake.

The man who had fought the Cardassian was beaming down at him, his face animated and excited. He announced, "It's Firesong. She's awake."

Julian was fully awake at that. He turned his face to the bed and sure enough, Firesong's eyes were open and focused on the man, her "Kuvasz." He ran his tricorder over her and frowned at the instrument. He opened his mouth to speak, but the hushed words being exchanged caught his attention. He hadn't heard the language before, and his Universal Translator couldn't interpret it, but it was beautiful. He listened for several minutes, entranced by the lyrical quality, then touched the woman lightly on the arm.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to get you to Deep Space Nine. I can treat you better there. Are you feeling up to the journey?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.

She smiled beautifully at him, almost mesmerizing him. "I am going on a journey, but not the one you wish of me. The Great Spirit is calling me; I must answer His call."

"No!" the man cried, anguished. "I will not let you go yet. Not after finding out...why didn't you tell me you were with child? We could have been married," he bemoaned softly, caressing her face with the back of his hand, staring at her adoringly.

She turned her blinding smile to him, covering his hand on her face with her own. "I didn't tell you, my dear Chakotay, because I knew you would ask. And I also know you are not the marrying kind. You need to live life to the fullest, which includes loving to the fullest." She raised her other hand to touch his face. "Live life to the fullest, my Kuvasz. Do not mourn for me; I am with the Great Spirit, and will watch over you." Her hands slid slowly off his face, her eyes slowly closed, but her beatific smile remained as she drew her last breaths.

The man, the woman had called him Chakotay, bowed his head. Julian slipped quietly out the door, giving him privacy.

***

Chakotay emerged from the bedroom about a half hour later, his face carefully controlled. Julian stood immediately, not sure if he would be welcome here anymore or not. The others had been giving him strange looks, tinted with fear and mistrust since he came out and announced Firesong's death. But they had remained at a distance; now they too stood, offering Chakotay comfort. He waved them off, walking to stand directly in front of Julian.

"Healer, you did what you could for her. I do not blame you for her death. Be on your way," Chakotay said, and walked out the door. Julian stared after him in amazement, missing the astonished looks passing amongst the others. Then he moved.

Running lightly to catch up to him, Julian called, "Wait." Chakotay slowed but did not stop. Falling into step beside him, Julian began, "You have need of a doctor here..."

Chakotay stopped in the middle of the road, catching Julian off-guard. "You do not belong here, Healer," he said, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to get a rise out of the other man.

"I belong wherever there is suffering. I saw a lot today; but I'm willing to bet there's been a lot worse. You need a doctor; I'm offering to stay on a bit longer," Julian insisted, not sure  _why_ he had even suggested it. He certainly didn't like his reception here; he had been treated as a virtual prisoner, at the very least, he was mistrusted. But his medical oath kept surfacing in his conscious, and it just _felt_ right.

Chakotay studied him a moment, his piercing gaze seemingly touching his very soul. "You have a kind, good heart. You want to do good wherever you can, almost to a fault," he almost whispered, his voice soft, his expression softer. Then it changed. "But you haven't seen the things I have; been through what these people have. You may have the heart, but you don't have the...you do not belong here."

It was Julian's turn to stare him down. "I want to stay." The two stood in the middle of the road, trying to convince the other of the rightness of their words, when they were interrupted.

"Doctor, you are needed. Come." A man Julian had noticed earlier stood patiently beside him, waiting for one of them to make a decision. Chakotay's gaze flicked to the man, then back to Julian.

"Go, Healer. You may stay for now." With that, Chakotay walked away. Julian allowed himself to be dragged off, glancing back at where the other man had gone.

***

"There's no way you could beat me," Julian insisted. He glanced up from the padd he was reading to study the man across from him. "We took sector championships my last year at Academy."

The young man snorted. "A Champion, eh? Well then, I better not challenge you," he said dryly, softening the sarcasm with a quirky smile. "How about you learn a man's game." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

That got Julian's full attention. "What game is that? Not some weird Klingon thing," he whispered, hoping B'Elanna hadn't overheard them.

He laughed. "No, no weird Klingon calisthenics. This is a game of skill; of style. Something my grandfather taught me. Come on." He stood, indicating Julian should follow him. Julian sighed agreeably, getting out of his comfortable chair and following him to the other room. He stared curiously at the round board on the wall.

"Is that it?" he asked as he was handed three small, pointed sticks. He picked one up and made as if to throw it.

"No fair, you already know this game!" the other man grinned as he watched Julian tossed the dart at the board. It missed by a good three centimeters. "Maybe not," the man quipped. At Julian's withering glance, he chuckled and demonstrated the correct way to throw the darts. After about an hour of this, they had come to a tie.

"What do you say we get something to eat. It's past midday meal," Julian complained as the other man threw. He missed.

"Will you quit distracting me? I'm trying to concentrate," the other man complained as he hit the outer ring.

Julian gave him his best innocence wounded look. "What was I doing? I just asked if you wanted to get something to eat." He picked up the darts and shot three very near the center. "Now can we eat?"

The young man let out a long suffering sigh. "It's not fair. I'm supposed to be teaching you this game, and here you are, beating me. Come on, let's eat."

They walked across the square to the commontable, where most people had already eaten and left. "See? There's something to be said for waiting," the young man said as he found a place to sit, Julian sitting next to him.

"Yes, but most of the food is gone," Julian couldn't resist the dig. He had fun bantering with Randy. Even when he was recuperating in his makeshift infirmary, Randy had tried to keep spirits up. His had been one of those close calls, after yet another sneak attack by the Cardassians. Fourth attack in the space of three weeks, and Julian was beginning to wonder if either Starfleet or the Cardassian government truly knew what was going on in the Demilitarized Zone.

But thinking about Starfleet didn't give him the same thrill as it used to. He had found a better focus for his medical talents, out here in the true frontier, where he was more than appreciated; he was needed. But his thoughts turned to the people he worked with, not here, but there, on a space station standing watch over an incredibly new lifeform, and a gateway to unknown worlds.

"Are you going to hold that all day?"

"Hm? What? Oh," Julian passed the bowl to Randy, lost in thought.

"Where were you, Julian? Some distant planet, where every day is Paradise?" Randy teased, then sobered as he caught the emotion reflected in Julian's eyes.

"I'm...just thinking, is all." _Not about some distant planet, but a not-so-distant space station..._

***

"I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. I'm needed back on the station. They have only one doctor," Julian explained. He was sitting in a house near the one where Firesong had died, where he now held his makeshift infirmary. The last of the patients were ready to go home, or rebuild their home, depending on where they had been during the latest attack. This time, the Cardassians hadn't even bother facing their enemies. They just shot them from low-flying ships.

"Your work here is not done," Randy insisted. "You're still needed here!"

"I'm afraid I'm just not cut out for this life, Randy. It's time for me to return to my life. I will miss you." Julian's words did little to comfort Randy, or Julian. He had been thinking a lot about this in his month on Nihada III. And he had come to the conclusion last night, after the attack. He had been spared only because he was a light sleeper; if he hadn't have heard the ships, he might have been killed himself. As it was, his house was rubble, fit only for rebuilding one of the other structures that had been destroyed.

"If it's because of your house, we can rebuild it! It's not like we haven't done it before," Randy started protesting, but Julian cut him off.

"It's not about the house, or any _thing_. It's about _me_. I don't belong here. That's only become more obvious the more time I spend here. It's time for me to move on." Julian knew it would be hard to stay; when he had first approached Chakotay, almost five weeks ago now, he had been vehemently opposed to the idea. And Julian had only caught glimpses of him since. But leaving was getting tougher by the minute.

Randy nodded slowly. "It's not your fight," he whispered.

Julian placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, but it is yours. Don't ever lose your fire, Randy. It's what keeps you alive." Remembering another time, when he had met "another" O'Brien and how he had lost his 'fire', a shudder ripped through Julian's thin frame. "I'll leave the supplies here. You know probably as much as anyone here; you can use them. Your Healer should have no problem with them. I have to check the runabout."

***

Walking through the scorched field, Julian reflected sadly on Bajor, and how it had looked when he arrived. _Much like this..._ Then his memory flashed to the station and his first look at the Infirmary. And Major Kira! Oh, how he had embarrassed himself! He wasn't at all surprised that it took her nearly two years to speak civilly to him. And Dax. How they had become such good friends, confidants even. It amazed him that he could be such good friends with her, and that she allowed him to still speak to her, after that imagined Dax appeared. But the look on her face had been  _priceless_! To a three hundred year old worm, that was probably the highlight of the decade. At least, he hoped so. And O'Brien. Whom he had annoyed the hell out of at first, who was now confiding in him about Keiko, friendly rivalry, always looking for a way to out-best the other. It was a satisfying friendship, even if it didn't offer the rewards of his relationship with Garak. Still not sure whether to consider him a friend or not, Julian had come to the conclusion that he never would figure it out, but he would count him among his friends, even if he was a 'master at obfuscation.' And Sisko. He was like a father figure to him, even while maintaining a professional distance. He had been understanding when Julian had brought up these wild fantasies about Garak being a spy, had been tolerant when Julian blundered his way through diplomatic functions, and finally come to respect him after dealing with Kai Winn and Vedek Bareil.

He almost walked blindly into the side of the runabout. With a start, he blinked away the memories and touched the release panel. The door opened, and Julian stepped inside. Blinking in the dark, he began running diagnostics.

Some time later, he heard someone approach. "Randy, now isn't a good time," he called from under the main panel, trying to see into the navigation controls.

"I think it is the perfect time," a softly-tinted accent answered, and Julian nearly banged his head trying to sit up.

"Chakotay! I haven't seen you in nearly a month. Where have you been?" Julian asked, taking in his mud-streaked appearance. He blinked in wonder at the tattoo now adorning his forehead.

Chakotay sat down in the seat behind the co-pilot's seat. "On a quest. I just got back and heard you were leaving us."

Julian sat down in the pilot's seat, marveling at the man's timing. "I was just giving the _Orinoco_ a last tinkering. I was going to leave tomorrow. I didn't know if I'd get to say good-bye to you or not."

Chakotay's piercing gaze was on him again as he said, "You would not have left without seeing me again. The Spirits made sure of that."

Julian found it hard to think with that intense stare focused on him, but he managed to ask, "Spirits? You were on a quest...of course. Part of your heritage. Forgive me, I don't know much about your people," he apologized.

"That is how we prefer it. I learned much this quest. It seems it is time for you to move on, and for me as well." Chakotay stood, his frame bent slightly as he stepped outside the runabout. Julian followed.

"Are you going back to the city?" he asked.

Chakotay stopped, not turning around, and said, "No. I am going to touch the stars." With that, he walked to the edge of the forest and disappeared into the thick foliage.

Wondering what to make of that remark, Julian set to work making the _Orinoco_ flight-ready.

***

"Aww, come on Julian! It's an easy game," O'Brien cajoled, holding out three thin pointed sticks.

"I'm not in the mood, Chief. Maybe later," Julian said as he stood and walked out of the Replimat. He had been back on DS9 for nearly a week, and Julian had an odd feeling. That was about all he could pinpoint - a strange feeling about - something. He went back to his quarters to try to relax before he had to be back on duty. Normally wanting company, but since his return, he wanted solace. Picking up the object from his desk, he walked to the couch and settled down, fingering the carving. It was stone, that much he was sure of. But where it had come from, he could only guess. It shimmered in the light, completely translucent, with what appeared to be a crack in the center, shaped just like...he got up to stand by his portal, looking out at the stars.

 _To touch the stars..._ He held the stone up to the portal, marveling yet again at how from any angle, it looked like the ancient symbol for medicine, the caduceus.

Somewhere in the Badlands, a Maquis ship and a Starfleet vessel crossed a void in space...

The End


End file.
